


Eclipse

by theamberissubtle



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Catra bonds with everyone, Catra comes to terms with the way she loves Adora, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Sexual Content, a bit of everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamberissubtle/pseuds/theamberissubtle
Summary: Fortunately, Adora was radiating as much nervous energy as her, perched on the edge of their bed with a tentativeness that was most unlike her.Or Catra stops the war and she and Adora start anew at Bright Moon.





	Eclipse

It takes a while for her ears to stop ringing.

Part of her is still on the battlefield, watching herself as though through someone else’s eyes: smoke everywhere, explosions so frequent and so close it makes her teeth vibrate, all of it shockingly loud, and bodies all over, some fallen, some bleeding, some fighting. Streaks of colour flying through the air from hands and swords and weapons and Catra is there, panting, watching it all unfold, watching She-Ra pause and stand upright before her from where she’d been knocked over.

She’s bleeding, too. She might even be losing. It’s impossible to tell. It's carnage.

Then her speech. Then silence. Then... then... she doesn’t quite know except she’s suddenly in Bright Moon and being bustled to an underground cell with Adora’s indignant pleading to Angella ringing in her ears.

It’s louder than the explosions, the way it sinks into her brain.

 _It’s unnecessary_ , she argues.

_I appreciate your vouch of confidence, Adora, but this is my final decision._

Meanwhile Catra just wants to cease to exist as she's lead away in handcuffs.

She’s covered in ash and gravel and bits of tree and metal. She smells like a bonfire. Her fur is matted and stuck down in places with – oil? Sludge? Flecks of blood that aren’t her own? Every bit of her body aches, or throbs, or twinges. The walk to the dungeon – sorry, _holding cells_ – passes by in a blink.

She may as well be sleepwalking. She can hardly keep her eyes open.

She knows Entrapta and Scorpia have been brought here too but the odds of seeing anyone in this endless maze is next to none. She doesn’t bother to look around. Even Bright Moon isn’t stupid enough to risk an accidental sighting. Not that it would change anything. Catra made the decision and the others followed, trusting her implicitly. Entrapta never cared about the war or what her gadgets were being used for; Scorpia just wanted to help. She didn’t know any different.

It’s like the past several hours never happened: Catra, standing tall, ordering The Horde to a standstill and declaring the war over; a brave cadet, removing their helmet, asking if she could really do that, and her response: "Well, no, but I am. Let me ask you all this: do you even know why you’re fighting? Do you even care? Keep fighting if that’s what you think you should be doing, but if you haven’t got a clue why you’re here, if you’re just following orders, then fuck it, don’t do it. If enough of us refuse to fight, we’ll turn The Horde around. We’ll make it a better place to live. We’ll get Hordak out and we’ll elect... a council or something. Democratically. Look, I don’t have the answers but...”

That was all it took.  
  
It dismantled slowly then very, very quickly. The Horde dropped their weapons, removed their gear, and blinked at their ruined surroundings. The Princesses startled into action and rounded them up. Angella marched over to Catra before Adora could rush up to her.  
  
“Catra, you’re-” she had started to say.  
  
What? She’s what? Stupid, evil, cowardly, weak? Her delirious mind thought she heard _incredible_.

She was so damn tired. They could have buried her in a hole and she wouldn’t have cared. She’d just turned the entire Horde’s imperialism on its head and she was facing the aftermath of her decision and all she wanted was to lick her wounds, nurse her pride, and sleep.

“This is your cell,” the guard paused, opening the glass panel with a surprisingly high-tech keycard, and Catra obediently stepped over the threshold and waited while he unlocked her handcuffs.

A bed, a cordoned off bathroom, a rug. Catra snorted. It made the dried blood in her nose ooze. Perhaps a hole was better than this farce: it seemed to scream  _we’re not enemies anymore so here’s a rug, a smidge of privacy, and an actual cot with a mattress._

Like Catra had slept properly since Adora –

“Thanks,” she muttered, because it wasn’t the guard’s fault, and he faltered, clearly not expecting the kind words.

Whatever faults Catra had, she was never rude to the people just following orders.

He left soon after and Catra sunk to the floor by the furthest wall.

There would be days of consequences. Months, years. She wondered how soon Shadow Weaver would find out about her betrayal. What Hordak would do. In her darkest moments in The Horde, she’d had fantasies of setting fire to the whole settlement and standing over it as it burned, imagining staring into Shadow Weaver’s eyes as she took her last breath. Fleeting thoughts. She'd never had the nerve. After Adora left she realised that for better or worse this was her lot in life and she had to make it work. Force Commander was a start. She’d adapted. She couldn’t pine forever. It gave her a plan, an ambition, and working alongside Scorpio and Entrapta had been – her heart twinged. It had been...

Catra squeezed her eyes shut and begged her brain to let her fall asleep.

* * *

  
An unknown amount of hours later, Catra was allowed to get clean and visit the doctor.

She complained the whole time. “I’m fine, I’m fine, get off me-”

The doctor applied her last stitch with a sigh.

Angella sighed from the corner, standing there tapping her forearms. “This is for your own good, Catra.”

She wanted to tell her to stuff it, but the logical part of her said dying by infection after everything she’d gone through would be ridiculous.

Next, the shower.  
  
Catra would rather die than admit she didn’t like water, so she seethed silently and let the harsh stream hit her fur. Rationally, she knew that she needed to get the war from her skin; she needed to be cleansed.

At least she afforded privacy. Because of her heightened hearing, she heard Angella turn to the guard, the same one who stood watch over her cell, and whisper, “Adora wants to see her but this is not to be allowed. Do you understand? I must leave and attend the council. This is your responsibility.” Her voice was suddenly louder as she turned in her direction. “Catra, we’ll speak soon. Rest, heal. You are not a prisoner here. We will soon need your input.”  
  
With that, she left.

Catra barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Call it what it was, Queen Angella. A prison with bright walls and comfy beds and guards that didn’t curse was still a prison, no matter what Bright Moon told itself.

She couldn’t see the guard from her position, but she could sense he was there, following orders.  
  
“What’s happening to the sold-” she started to say. But it was pointless. Catra tried to ignore the deep, gaping guilt in her chest. Her soldiers, following her orders, had stopped fighting, had laid down their weapons, had trusted her leadership.

She hoped they were okay, all of them.

“The soldiers,” she spluttered, hating the way her voice sounded.  
  
The guard glanced towards her, his face carefully blank. She could just see him over the privacy barrier. She didn’t finish her sentence, and he could have ignored her, but after a pause he said, tonelessly, “Your squad is in the holding cells, like you. They’re fine. The soldiers... Well, the Alliance are working to settle them. The wounded are being treated. They’re not prisoners, but...”  
  
Adora nodded, though he couldn’t see. Best case scenario, then. They’d be keeping them out of the way while they took down The Horde’s headquarters. After that, who knew?

She let the water bounce from her skin and mumbled a thanks. She wasn’t sure if he heard, but she was left to sit in the showers for a lot longer than she expected.

* * *

 

  
There was a lot of time in her holding cell to think.

She was no stranger to wiling away the hours inside her own head, stacking up the feelings of anger, inadequacy, hope, bitterness, _anger_ against Shadow Weaver, Adora, The Horde, all of it.

Blind rage had guided her for a long time. There was always something to get her blood pounding. Now, however, she felt hollow. She was impervious to what was happening outside of Bright Moon. Her squad was safe, her soldiers looked after. That was all she had the energy for.

Once upon a time she’d wanted to strike the match that burned it all to the ground. Now that the ambition, the mission, was absolved – by her own hand no less – she felt cold and tired in its wake. The resignation was temporary, she knew, for once she was out of this cell with the world at her fingertips, she would have to consider her options. If the Alliance let her have any.

Fuck them, she thought. She hadn’t stopped the entire war just to spend her days in another prison. She would _give_ herself options if it came down to it.

The only solace in this sparkly, nice-smelling, comfortable cell was, contradictory, thoughts of Adora. For the first time in a long time she had the space to consider her own feelings towards her childhood friend, her _soul mate_.

Scorpia had called her that once, back in The Horde when Catra was being uncharacteristically talkative and trying to describe their relationship. It sort of fit. Destined to be together. It was true that there was no else out there that made her feel so strongly, who she kept coming back to.

Amidst it all the feelings of betrayal had disappeared. She believed Adora when she told her that her leaving was unintentional, and she’d spent the past year trying to make it right.

Catra simply didn’t have the energy to stay angry. She’d held onto it for so long, even when she started to doubt it, because it was the fuel to the fire that had been set ablaze in Adora's absence. It had served its purpose.

The only reason she’d felt capable of stopping the invasion was because Adora’s words – her actions, her decisions – had finally registered: Adora had left because it was for the greater good. She hadn’t stopped for Catra because she couldn’t, because the world was ready to implode without her.

And Catra had taken that as betrayal. She thought her selfish and horrible and things a lot worse than that.  

Catra now understood why she did it, why she’d taken on the burden of She-Ra and pledged her life to the cause. She’d done it, too. She’d sacrificed it all, Adora included, for the war. Then she’d changed her mind. For Adora, because of Adora, always Adora.

Sighing, Catra found her own obsession nauseating. It always led back to Adora. Even when it didn’t, it somehow did, a lesson learned because of her, in spite of her.

When Catra had been looking around the battlefield, wondering how many soldiers were dead or dying for The Horde’s cause, she truly could not understand what the point of it all was. So the rest of the world could die the same death? For what? For future generations to be born within The Horde and brought up like her? For rebellion to be snuffed out, decade after decade, perpetual sadness and misery. There would always be rebellion as long as there was a Horde.

“Catra.”  
  
Speak of the devil and she shall appear, looking like an angel.

Catra turned her head and desperately ignored the expected thump of her heart.

Long blonde hair, still bright in the shadows, her blue eyes shining, always earnest and filled with that _something_ whenever she looked at Catra.

So she’d found her at last.

The guard was still outside her cell; she could hear him adjust his stance, shielding Adora from the security camera.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tired, her tone laced with none of her usual snark.  
  
“I needed to see you,” Adora replied, like it was obvious, standing pressed against the glass.

Catra turned away from her lest she crumble. “Well, here I am.”  
  
“You’re okay? No injuries? Your cell’s okay?”

Catra ignored her spiel of concern but her squishing tale gave her away; just hearing Adora’s voice was sending a whole stream of feelings through her, from her toes to her ears. Considering she’d spent most of the last two days holding a microscope to every single feeling she’d ever had about her, the rawness of her emotional dissections left her heart feeling exposed.

She looked the same. Smelled the same. Babbled righteously in the same way. Gesticulated angrily on Catra’s behalf, just like always.

“I’m trying to get you out of here. Entrapta and Scorpio, too. Angella and the council want to keep you here for the whole month which is stupid, I know, because it was all of you who ended this. It’s not that they don’t trust you. I think they’re overwhelmed by everything that happened – is happening - and they’re keeping you here while they figure out the next steps. Don’t worry, I’m going to make them see sense!”  
  
“Adora,” Catra interrupted. “Stop it.”  
  
“Stop what? You deserve-”  
  
“I deserve nothing. Let me sit here.”  
  
Aghast, Adora held her hand against the glass. “Catra, no, what you did was monumental. It’s changed everything. You’ve saved thousands of lives. You  saved those soldiers. We’re going to take down The Horde once and for all and punish those who deserve it.”  
  
“And make the world a better place,” Catra taunted, suddenly finding her snark.  
  
Adora’s eyes glowed brightly. “Yes.”

She couldn’t hold back a snort – of familiarity, of affection, of longing. “You’re so naive.”  
  
Adora grinned. “You saved the world.”  
  
“And dramatic.”  
  
“You kinda did, though.”  
  
“Shut up.”

Hope bloomed in Catra’s chest and she allowed herself a moment to bask in Adora’s praise. It felt good, being praised for being good.

Deep down, she’d known that The Horde’s plans were nothing but egotistical. Thoughts of forging a path outside of that grasp however felt insurmountable so she’d settled in and tried to make it work.

Adora watched her tail swish with the biggest grin on her face and settled herself cross-legged on the floor, launching into a detailed explanation of what Bright Moon was like and how it worked “for when Catra had the time to explore it properly.”

Chin propped up on her fist, Catra moved closer and watched her talk, saying nothing, feeling a wave of peace settle over her where the anger once was, where the hollowness resided, the need to beat every soft feeling into submission.

Adora visited her every night after that though she wasn’t supposed to, slinking over to the glass pane with the stealth of a baby elephant. There was plenty of things Adora was good at but stealth was not one of them, especially due to Catra’s heightened senses. She’d been efficient enough during training but a year outside of her regimented lessons and she had the finesse of a newborn animal.

Catra was charmed against her will.

The guard, who gave her snacks on occasion, never mentioned a word of Adora’s arrival, but he always tapped on the glass to alert her and positioned himself in front of the camera.

Adora kept her up-to-date with the Alliance’s activities - _because you deserve to know_ – and their plans for resettlement. She told her about how, in the next few days, they’d be taking on Shadow Weaver and Hordak at last. It had taken a lot longer than anticipated to get a plan in place, and it had been three weeks since the battle. They were aiming to capture, but accepted the necessity of further action.

A euphemism if ever she’d heard one.

Catra accepted all of this mutely. She’d expected everything that they were doing. Predictable princesses. Why it had taken them this long to figure it out, she didn’t know. Catra would’ve marched over there in the same hour the battle stopped and pummeled them into submission.

She might've led the charge herself at the time, but now she felt disconnected from it all.

During these nighttime visits she was more preoccupied with Adora herself, sitting opposite her, gesticulating her points, drawing Catra in like she always did.

Catra hated that she waited for her, watched for her. She hated that her tail gave away her enthusiasm. She hated the way Adora looked at her, so softly, so sweetly, so filled to the brim with pride and, perhaps, a similar longing – for the old days, for the thoughts of the new days, for the stupid, blind optimism of making this work: the post-war life. 

“I missed you,” Adora revealed to her the night before she was due to leave for The Horde, head pressed against Catra’s through the glass. “I miss touching you.”  
  
Catra knew what she meant and knew the innocence behind the statement but there was also a lot Catra had come to terms with sitting in her cell and she couldn’t stop the blush if she tried.

She stayed silent so as not to show her hand.

Adora turned to meet her eyes and Catra hardly dared breathe for blurting out something stupid.

“I-”  
  
“Time’s up, Princess,” the guard said, appearing behind Adora apologetically, and Adora nodded as though in a daze and stood up, glancing at Catra with regret.  

It was on the tip of her tongue: _stay safe, I love you, come back to me._  

As Catra watched her leave, sorrow squeezing her chest, the guard nodded at her, and she nodded back.

* * *

 

After a full month, Catra was free.

Shadow Weaver had been caught. Hordak was dead.

The time for restoration was here, and they needed her help.

Catra missed her holding cell for all of two seconds when she left it, escorted up the long, winding staircase by the guard to the small welcoming committee at the top.

Bouncing on the soles of her feet with excitement, Adora pulled her into a hug and Catra was powerless to stop her own arms from wrapping around her, burying her nose in her neck and inhaling her scent properly.

She glanced at the guard and saw the small smile he was trying to hide, and that made her blush even more, an odd mixture of affection and respect for her unexpected white knight settling into her stomach.

Angella and Glimmer allowed them their moment.

“I’ll show you to your room!” Adora beamed, ignoring everyone else. 

Angella barely got a word in edgeways before Adora dragged her away, and Catra found herself chuckling for the first time in months.

She heard Glimmer say, “I told you that would happen.”  
  
“I thought her sneaking out to see her every night would have prevented some of the fireworks. Yet here we are.”  
  
Catra rolled her eyes at Adora’s way of wearing her heart on her sleeve.

Her room, it turned out, was in Adora’s room.  
  
“If- If you want,” Adora said, eyeing her nervously. “You’ll probably want your own space, actually, this was presumptuous-”

“This is perfect,” Catra told her honestly, falling back on her designed bed and relishing in its softness. She’d gotten used to a little more luxury since arriving at Bright Moon. 

She glanced around: The room was large enough, brightly coloured like everything else. It was clear the bed high above them hadn't been slept in for a long time, if ever. It was strewn with pillows. Instead a small, flat mattress had been dragged to the floor close to Catra’s own. 

Her heart twinged again.

How inconvenient, she thought, watching Adora look over at her with the most tender expression, to be in love.

* * *

   
Bright Moon was bright and loud and annoying.

It was everything and yet nothing like what Catra expected.

She was allowed to go everywhere she wanted, for one. Total freedom. Entrapta and Scorpia opted to remain on site, too, so they could have input into the restoration efforts. Entrapta was already working on infrastructure planning for a brand new settlement. Scorpia was helping with the building efforts, guiding her own team.

Catra was... proud of them.

Upon seeing them after a month apart, she’d felt a sob wrack her whole body, unable to stop the tidle-wave of remorse, but Scorpia picked her up and swung her around and Entrapta’s hair rubbed her back and they told her they were fine, they were happy, and they were, in fact, having the time of their lives. Screw The Horde.

“Screw The Horde,” Catra chuckled, arms around both of them, wiping at her tears.

It became a standard greeting and goodbye for the three. Whenever they passed in corridors, greeted one another in meetings, called the landline from different settlements: “Screw The Horde!”

There was a lot of work to be done, and everyone was constantly busy, either in meetings, out in the field, or recruiting more allies.

Catra had even ventured out to greet her soldiers. She’d had to hold back her tears for the second time when she’d walked into camp and they’d cheered, gathering around, reassuring her they were happy and _look, we’re building a water tank- and that’s going to be a school – and I’m going to teach the younger cadets how to -_

It felt good to find her purpose again, particularly one that made Adora stick to her side like glue, following her around like a needy puppy. Catra relished it; she walked so closely to the other girl that their hands were constantly brushing; she let herself laugh and joke in her presence; she allowed herself to fill the hollowness with the dormant love that had been there all along and helped her survive since childhood, the love that had dictated her path for better or worse, the love that had brought her full circle.

They sat next to one another in meetings.

They ate all their meals together.

They trained together too as Catra had a lot of restless energy and Adora had a haunted look in her eyes when she sat still for too long.

They’d always helped one another through their darkest days and here they were again, not needing to speak to be able to offer some comfort, whether that was by spear or midnight cuddles or a soft hand on the others’ back and accepting eyes. It was muscle memory; it was instinctual, primitive; Catra knew Adora better than she knew herself.

Even the rest of the best friend squad wasn’t as bad as what she’d projected them to be. Many a time she’d envisioned knocking the purple candyfloss off Sparkles’s head.

Bow made the effort with her immediately when Adora had first introduced them.

“Adora’s friend is my friend!” Bow had proclaimed, opening his arms wide for a hug that wasn’t returned.  
  
“What is with this guy?” she’d asked Adora, holding her thumb in this direction.  
  
“You’ll learn to love me,” he’d reassured her, grinning, not deterred at all.

Impressed, Catra considered that this one might be able to hold his own against her worst moods. To his credit, he already had, bumping into her one restless night as Catra patrolled the castle during a bout of insomnia.

 At the time Adora was on a reconnaissance mission to recruit princess so-and-so from the isle of whatever.

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked sympathetically, his own eyes tired as he emerged from the kitchen, cocoa sticking to his upper lip.

Catra couldn’t stop her tail from swishing. “I guess.”  
  
“I have nightmares,” Bow explained, motioning vaguely. “I can usually get back to sleep after a while. But... I don’t know. Sometimes with Adora gone I find it hard.”

No one was more surprised than her when she put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. He rested a hand against her own and they stayed like that for a moment.

 _Me too_ , Catra wanted to say, but she thought he understood. _I don't sleep properly without her, either._

He never again mentioned that night, or gave any indication they’d crossed paths and Catra supposed that he was right; she would learn to love him, if only for the way he loved Adora.

All in all the first couple of months in Bright Moon as a _hero_ – scoff – weren’t quite what she expected, and she was better off for it.

* * *

 

  
Closure wasn’t a word she was familiar with, but Adora insisted that visiting Shadow Weaver and facing her demons would be therapeutic and healing.

It was strange, knowing she was in the castle, rotting away in the deepest, darkest dungeon. Which, knowing Bright Moon, would have beige walls instead of pink or something.

She’d been in a surly mood with Adora all week after she’d suggested it.

It had set something off within her, however. The taped-up walls were crumbling and the same muted fear rising to the surface told her that, no, she hadn’t dealt with it at all, not really.

Adora walked her to the cell. She’d made her own peace. She was the one who’d captured her, who’d brought her to the cell. For Adora, it was as over as it ever could be. As for Catra...

“Ah, here you are,” Shadow Weaver greeted, her tone neutral as she regarded her ward. “Catra. The biggest disappointment of all.”  
  
Catra almost let herself believe it. She almost cowered. It was everything she expected to hear, but it still hurt. How could it hurt? An entire childhood's worth of memories flickered through her mind, but the one that stood out was first seeing Adora, missing a tooth, hair as bright as it was now, standing there grinning and holding out her hand.

“I’m not,” she said, quietly. She summoned the strength and looked up. “I ended this war. You couldn’t even capture Adora. Instead I rose all the way up just to bring it all down. I did that.”  
  
Shadow Weaver’s smile was full of malice.

“You’re pathetic,” Catra continued, baring her teeth. “You wasted all of that time obeying Hordak, tip-toeing around him, and now he’s dead all the same. He was weaker than you. That’s the only reason I’m not ripping your head off, because you’re going to have a lot of time to think about what happened and how you not being able to beat me – beat Adora – was your undoing. You’re going to sit in here for the rest of your life and seethe about the fact I fucked it all up for you. Brought down by  _the runt_. Who knows, maybe if you’d been a little nicer...”  
  
Silence met her words. She hadn’t stopped looking at Shadow Weaver once. She hadn’t anything to say. Her powers, gone, made her body arch differently; she looked frail, wasted. The hold she had over Catra vanished as quickly as a glance. She couldn’t hurt her again.

“I don’t know what that girl sees in you,” Shadow Weaver said, just as she was about to leave.

Catra smirked. “I guess I have the luxury of finding out.”  
  
She never visited her cell again.

* * *

 

After that, Adora pleaded with her to seek actual counselling.

“I have counselling,” Adora told her, avoiding her eyes. “I’m trying to say that proudly, but, honestly, it still makes me feel weak. It is helping, though. It’s just a work in progress and it’s going to take time to come to terms with it all. _Apparently_ I’m making progress – just being able to say the words "child soldier" is progress.”

It sounded like shoddy science to her – really, talking about your feelings for hours on end? – but Catra would have walked across hot coals for Adora at that point, high off the restoration efforts and kicking Shadow Weaver in the nuts while she was down. She would’ve stopped a war for her (oh wait...) so she went to counselling, which predictably sucked.

She walked out several sessions in a row.

It was intense and probing and awful. Her counsellor asked her about everything: the good, the bad, the atrocious. Why she did this. Why she did that. Feelings, always feelings. Each session left her sore. She would need to lie in a small, dark place for a while afterwards and breathe.

Adora understood. She needed to use her sword for a long while after leaving her own counsellor’s office, and she’d often miss dinner to sit at the edge of The Whispering Woods.

Catra would find her there and settle in beside her, letting Adora’s head settle on her shoulder.

“Apparently I have abandonment issues,” she told her, celebrating her first full week of not marching out of her counselors office with honesty.  
  
“Apparently I have a hero complex.”

“Apparently I find it difficult to trust people.”

“Apparently I overcompensate by focusing on other people too much and ignoring my own problems.”

“Tragic, aren’t we?”  
  
“Oh yes, terribly tragic.”  
  
Catra grinned into her hair and Adora entwined their fingers.

How apt, she thought, to be sitting here facing the catalyst for it all: how once upon a time all it took was a moment of mischief and a sword to upend their lives.

* * *

 

  
Eventually, her sessions reached the topic of Adora.

“Doc, I’ve done the work here, the good old soul-searching kind. I’m good. I know where I stand with this one.”  
  
He still asked her to embellish because of course he did.  

Fidgeting on the sofa, she flicked her tail this way and that, stopping when she realised it was one of her nervous traits and he’d be making a note of it. Damn it.

"I love her,” she said, the words falling from her chest with ease, like they were waiting all along to be let free. She scoffed at herself for the honesty. She was a little surprised at herself for blurting it out. “Yeah, right, okay. What the hell. I love her.”  
  
For the first time since they’d started meeting, her therapist stopped writing and gazed at her.

“That, Catra, is the first honest thing you’ve said – no prompting, no dissecting. A simple truth.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” she mumbled, picking at the couch cushion with her claws.

“It’s a good thing,” he reassured her, smiling. “Now tell me about Adora.”

Now she was in therapy undoing a childhood’s worth of Horde abuse, her feelings for Adora flowed unfiltered.

They couldn’t hide behind the walls she’d so carefully constructed as the therapy tore them down and gave her actual coping mechanisms. She couldn’t convince herself that what she felt was anything but all-consuming love. Her therapist reassured her that it was romantic love, too, and that wanting to pin someone to the side of a tree and kiss them for hours and hours was very much a symptom of desire. Hey, he said to be honest!

Acceptance was one thing. She’d always known that what she felt for Adora was stronger than what she felt for anyone else. She just didn’t know what came next. She'd never had the luxury of time, of having a say about her own future.

It didn’t help that Adora was there, constantly. They were living together as adults without the same fears that plagued their childhood. It was so familiar and so different and she didn’t have a clue how to go about tackling this unspoken tension between them. It seemed to make up every atom of her; Adora was weaved into Catra’s genetic make-up.

How do you tell someone so important that you want to kiss them?

Strangely enough, it was Glimmer who decided to help her out.  
  
“I’m sick of you two pining,” she told her, ushering her into her room, and Catra noted it looked like a circus had thrown up.

Glimmer hadn’t had much to do with Catra since she came to Bright Moon, keeping quiet for Adora’s sake aside from a few huffs and eye-rolls. As time went by and it was evident Catra wasn’t going anywhere, she’d started begrudgingly accepting her presence and even conceded to her expertise when it came to discussing plans for the new settlements and how to best help the soldiers.  
  
“Adora’s a mess when it comes to you, and you’re not faring much better. So many heart-eyes, all day, every day. I can’t deal with it anymore. I’m suffocating. Bow told me I shouldn’t meddle but we’re all going to die of old age before you two get it together.”

Uncharacteristically Catra spluttered for several long moments, then denied it, and finally acquiesced under Glimmer’s raised eyebrow. Fair enough. She wasn’t going to make it easy, though.

“Have you considered being honest with her? Just saying the words _Adora, I like you_. I’ll bet the whole of Bright Moon that she falls over her own feet in her haste to tell you the exact same thing.”  
  
Catra glared at her. “Terrible advice.”  
  
“What! Why?” Indignant, Glimmer folded her arms.

“Have you ever thought about what it would be like to just suddenly walk up to the person you like and being all, hey, what’s up, I like you. There isn’t a context!”  
  
Glimmer sighed and put a hand to her head. “What about making a romantic gesture?”  
  
“Why are you coming to me and not Adora?” Catra interrupted, trying hard not to scowl. “If Adora is as head over heels as what you say, surely it’d be easier convincing her to do something. You don’t even like me.”

It was a moment before Glimmer considered her answer. “I’m going to be honest with you, Catra. Adora is... Well, I know her, and I know that she thinks she doesn’t deserve... well, happiness, I suppose. Not the kind that makes her reach out to you. She’s punishing herself.”

That stopped Catra in her tracks. Punishing herself?

“For how she let you behind,” Glimmer explained. “I think she doesn’t want to mess up your friendship.”  
  
Catra felt like howling. Stupid, beautiful girl. Her Adora. They were both masochists, clearly. Except it was ridiculous: Adora was so _infuriating_. 

“This is ridiculous,” Catra huffed, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to find her.”  
  
“Really?” Glimmer was right behind her as she stormed out the door.  
  
“She’s an idiot,” Catra growled, too caught up in the swirl of emotions to care that another person was tagging along and she was essentially tearing through the castle without a plan.  
  
“This  _is_ the big romantic gesture,” Glimmer told her, starting to get excited.  
  
“Sure it is, Sparkles.”  
  
“I still don’t like you.”  
  
Catra smiled. “Likewise.”  
  
As luck would have it she found Adora about to take a bath. She was wearing less clothes than usual, Bow was there, and all of Catra’s confidence bottomed out along with her jaw as she surveyed her friend’s flat stomach and arm muscles. The clothes that people wore to the public baths in Bright Moon were modest enough but -

Glimmer cleared her throat.  
  
“Hi,” Adora said slowly, glancing between them. “Are you two... hanging out?”  
  
Bow beamed. “Finally!”  
  
“We’re not,” Glimmer and Catra said in unison, taking a step apart.  
  
Glimmer glared at her and motioned for her to step forward.  
  
“Adora,” Catra said, feeling so out of her depth that her tail stood upright, like she was on alert. She was standing there in a revealing bathrobe thing for heaven's sake! She could barely focus. Helplessly, she let her sentence dangle in the air. “Perhaps some privacy,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the two blatantly staring at them, Bow with his hands by his mouth, Glimmer with her fists clenched and eyes wide.

Adora, however, walked closer to her, and Catra’s brain short-circuited.  
  
“You can tell me anything,” she said, earnestly, blue eyes piercing. “Is everything alright? You don’t usually come and join us in the baths.”

Catra wanted to speak but the words just wouldn’t come out.  

They stood there like idiots for a few moments while Catra grasped onto anything that would get her through this. Then it hit her: Glimmer said Adora was punishing herself. That despite everything, she was still holding herself accountable for something Catra had forgiven her for – that she shouldn't have held over her in the first place, probably.

To hell with it.

She grabbed Adora’s face with both hands and drew her in for an inexperienced kiss, pouring all the things she couldn’t say into her lips.

For a moment there was no response.

Catra felt her heart catapult out of her chest and was about to pull back and beat Sprinkles within an inch of her life for the false hope when Adora half-laughed against her mouth, like she couldn’t believe what was happening, and grabbed her hips to pull her back in.

It was only slightly embarrassing to realise she was purring.

It was more embarrassing when she heard Glimmer and Bow squeal in the background.

“Catra.” Adora held her at arms length and searched her face. “You... want this?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise, dummy. Now stop being a martyr. I’ve done the whole woe-est-me-I-deserve-to-burn-in-hell thing and it isn’t attractive. Look around you. This isn’t The Horde. We’re not fighting on opposite sides. I’m in therapy. Therapy! Anything can happen. What I'm saying is, this won’t break us apart.”  
  
Tears fell from Adora’s eyes and before she could register the fact she’d made her cry, she flung herself forward and started to bawl in her arms, Catra smiling rufully against her hair as she patted her on the back. She almost rolled her eyes, if not for the own tears she was holding back.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Adora sniffed.  
  
“Do we have to?” Catra jokingly groaned.

“Yes! So much talking!”  
  
“Fine, fine. Can I check that you’re not crying over the kiss?”  
  
“No way! The kiss was perfect. It’s just surreal. I mean, I can’t believe I’ve just had my first kiss in a bathrobe surrounded by my best friends.”  
  
Catra’s hear fluttered – then soared. It was possessive of her, she could admit, but knowing that she’d had Adora’s first kiss was incredibly satisfying.  
  
“Don’t mind us,” Bow called out, hearts pouring from his eyes. “Do your thing.”  
  
Catra wrinkled her nose at him.

“Oh, stop grumbling, we’ve been waiting for this practically as long as you two mopey idiots have been,” Glimmer griped, leaning her elbow against Bow.  
  
“Unlikely,” Catra muttered, meeting Adora’s questioning eyes. “Don’t act like this _thing_ hasn’t been between us from the start.”  
  
Adora happily nodded. “It’s nice to find a name for it.”

Catra pulled her in for another kiss with a background of cheers and she hated herself for smiling against Adora’s laughing mouth. 

* * *

 

“Don’t you think we should have been making out all along?” Adora mused, straddling her hips in their room as the moonlight filtered in through the window. “I don’t think I could have left if I had this to look forward to- mmph.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Catra drolled, pulling back from her mouth. “You’re so well-adjusted that you can make jokes. Speaking of which, if you ever take too long in the bathroom I’m going to think you’ve left me.”  
  
Adora’s eyes sparkled. “I appreciate the quip about your abandonment issues but that was a weak delivery.”  
  
“Sue me. Your lips are distracting.”  
  
To prove her point, Catra kissed her again, and Adora sighed contently into her mouth. While her lips were occupied, Catra flipped them, her tail flicking excitedly as she regarded Adora below her.

Adora pouted and struggled beneath her. “I’m stronger.”  
  
“I’m quicker,” Catra said, leaning forward to kiss her neck, nipping gently at the skin.  
  
Adora whimpered, the noise travelling down her spine like liquid heat. “Don’t leave a mark. It was so embarrassing in the last meeting when Mermista pointed it out.”  
  
“Don’t care,” Catra muttered, licking the redness away. “I make out with my girlfriend, so what.”  
  
She felt Adora’s grip tighten at the term before she pushed her shoulder. “I’m pale and blonde and there’s nothing I can do to hide it! At last yours can be covered by your mane of hair.”

Catra utterly adored her. It swept over her so fully and completely that she just wanted to stare at her girlfriend laid out like an angel on the pillows and indulge in the feeling of loving and being loved. It was cheesy, awful, so awful, but she didn’t care. She grinned at her and Adora raised an eyebrow in question.

“What’s going on with you-”  
  
Catra kissed her again and again and again.

The next morning, when Bow asked her if she had some food stuck to her neck, Catra watched in amusement as Adora face-planted the table.

Whoops.

When all eyes turned to her, she shrugged, not in the least bit embarrassed. “I have a hot girlfriend,” she told the entire table and Adora just about slid off her chair.

Glimmer laughed outright and Mermista snickered.

Bow finally cottoned onto the bruise and tutted like a disapproving parent. “Honestly, you girls.”

It was just the princesses today so it wasn’t _that bad_. The last time Angellica had been there along with the guard who’d watched over Catra in the cells, his eyes glinting as Angella sighed despairingly.

“Adora, we’re all adults here, it’s fine,” Perfuma said diplomatically, magic-ing a flower crown to sit on Adora’s head which was still flat on the table.

“If you two ever have sex, I swear I’m not coming to this castle until you get it out of your system,” Mermista said, no qualms about bringing out the S word.

Adora shot up at that and dislodged the flower crown, a rather wild look in her eyes.  
  
“Who said anything about s-s-s-”

“I think we found the virgin.”  
  
Adora glanced sideways at Catra. “Um, what’s a virgin?” she asked the table at large, clearly thinking it another innocuous term she hadn’t been introduced to thanks to The Horde.  
  
Catra sunk into her seat surreptitiously. Bow glanced her way sympathetically. She didn’t know the word either but she could guess. Meanwhile her heart was bursting out of her chest at the words _Adora_ and _sex_ in the same sentence.

“It means,” Glimmer offered, always helpful, “someone who’s never had sex before.”  
  
“You have had the sex talk, right? You know what it is?” Mermista pushed on. “I’m concerned for you if not.”  
  
“I know what it is!” Adora shot back, indignant.

Mermista snorted, “Great, maybe you should have it to get rid of all this sexual tension!”  
  
“T-t-that’s – I mean – I don’t-”  
  
Poor Adora was struggling and Catra could do little else but sit there with jaw open because what the hell, this conversation had derailed. She was not prepared for the table to be discussing her sex life or lack thereof.

She and Adora were kissing a lot and making up for lost time, and sure, she’d be lying if she said there were some nights that lying there with Adora’s soft breaths in her ear and hand up her shirt wasn’t torturously distracting, and sure, Catra might be a regular at the bathhouse now for no reason other than wanting to stare at – hang out with – Adora, um, everyone, and sure, Catra had been lost in several daydreams during this exact meeting, but it didn’t mean –

“Earth to Catra,” Glimmer called out, helpful as ever.

Mermista glared at her from across the table. “Deflower her and get it over with. For everyone’s sake.”  
  
"I hate that term," Perfuma sighed.   
  
“Stop talking about this,” Catra hissed, unable to keep quiet. “Mind your own business.”

 It was better than giving Adora the time to ask what _deflowering_ meant.  
  
“This _is_ my business. I can practically smell the pheromones and it’s stopping me from doing actual work.”  
  
Adora stood up and put both hands on the table. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it!”

Everyone in the vicinity winced at how shrill her voice had gone. She was practically sweating. Despite the situation, Catra couldn’t help but study the sweat on the back of her neck and picture a different scenario where Adora was beneath her, legs wrapped around her waist as her fingers moved –

“See! That’s what I mean!” Mermista pointedly an accusatory finger at Catra, who had been lost in her own musings.  
  
Catra shook her head to dislodge the thoughts. “Stop being a pervert,” she accused, trying to stop the blush. What was wrong with her? Of all the moments to slip into a fantasy...

Glimmer sighed. “Can we move past this? I really don’t know what to say.”  
  
“You two live in the castle,” Mermista said, addressing her and Bow, clearly not content to drop it – it was obvious she was having fun turning Adora several shades of red and unnerving the normally unflappable Catra. “How do you cope with it?”  
  
Bow shrugged. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Besides, I’m not in the habit of thinking about my friends having sex.”  
  
Glimmer half-shrugged. “I get where you’re coming from, but it’s not really my business. I’ve tried to give my advice but Adora’s very... Gentlemanly? Womanly? Whatever word means she’s respectful and taking things slow.”

Wait, what? They were discussing sex? Adora was talking to Glimmer about sex? With her? Adora was thinking about sex?

“Catra said something similar,” Scorpia inserted, giving her a thumbs up.

Shaking her head, Catra focused on the current battle. “We are in the room, stop talking about us like we aren’t here,” she growled.

She regretted ever having too much wine after their last Screw The Horde dinner and opening her big mouth to Scorpia and Entrapta - who probably wasn't listening.

“Glaciers move faster than you two,” Mermista griped. “Haven’t you been in love since you were five?”

Adora’s eyes softened and Catra looked her way, heart still thudding. She was a sucker for Adora’s eyes, especially when they turned soft like that and regarded Catra like she was her favourite person in the world.

“See, bedroom eyes!”

“For the last time, shut up,” Catra seethed.

Adora sat back down, leaned closer to her ear, and whispered, “Mermista might have a point.”  
  
Dexterous Catra almost fell off her chair at that. She could feel the heat from Adora’s cheeks and her tail twitched at her proximity. “It’s not like I wanted to bring it up like this, but, um, we could... have the conversation. If you want. To make sure we’re on the same page.”  
  
“Yeah,” Cara instantly said, her mind whirring into overdrive.

Adora, untying her robe, letting it pool around her feet as she beckoned Catra to come closer; Adora, flipping them over, straddling her hips as her hand started to creep down; Adora’s whimpers and moans and Catra being responsible for causing them; Adora’s smell, her intense gaze; the way she let her tongue do that thing but in another place entirely -

Frosta sighed and unplugged her fingers from her ears. “May I remind you I’m only eleven years old.”

Adora and Catra sprang apart. Mermista smirked. Perfuma and Entrapta looked like they weren’t paying attention. Scorpia smiled benignly, unaffected. Glimmer patted Adora on the arm, and Bow sent an apologetic smile Catra’s way.

Whatever.

Catra had bigger things to worry about.

She was going to be having the sex talk with her girlfriend.

She drummed her claws along the table. Thank you, meddling princesses.

* * *

“Right, so...”  
  
“Yeah, um...”  
  
Catra sighed and flopped backwards on the bed. She could talk to Adora about anything. They’d had a lot of soul-bearing difficult chats since being together in Bright Moon, but this one, the sex talk, was the most difficult of all.

She was nervous!  Rightfully so! It was a strange topic to navigate! How honest was she supposed to be? _Honestly, Adora, most nights I fall asleep thinking about the breathy moans you make when I kiss your neck and it makes it impossible to fall asleep, especially when you cling to me during the night and rub your leg up my thigh._ Honest enough? she thought sarcastically.

She was better with her actions, honestly, but Adora was right: this deserved an open and honest discussion.

It’s what adults did. Supposedly. And besides, what was her plan going to be? Feel her up and hope by the powers of telekinesis she’d understand it to mean _I want to take off your clothes_?

If Catra thought back to her life a couple of years ago, she never could have envisioned this being her life’s biggest concern.

But she wasn’t the only one in this scenario: Adora must be feeling it, too. She was the one who’d dragged her into the cleaning closet that one time, mouth attaching to hers with the urgency of one committing her lips to memory. She must have the same restlessness coursing through her. The worst part was there wasn’t an outlet for it; there was no distraction big enough. It always came back, worse than before. More kisses, more heated stares, more touches.

Fortunately, Adora was radiating as much nervous energy as her, perched on the edge of their bed with a tentativeness that was most unlike her.

“I...” Adora took a deep breath. “I’m going to be honest.”  
  
Catra sat up like an uncoiled spring.

“Okay, so, we’ve been going out for three months now. Well, properly going out. I guess we were always kind of going out, it depends how you look at it, there was always something between us and we’ve never been with anyone else so-”  
  
“Adora,” Catra said softly, stopping her nervous babbling. “Can I be honest?”  
  
Adora nodded gratefully, already blushing into oblivion.

“The thought of being with you like that... I want it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. After everything we’ve been through... We're living a life I never thought possible. I’ve never felt more emotionally... ready? Does that make sense? I want to give that part of myself to you, I guess. It’s not like I’m not already happy with what we’re doing! And there’s no rush! If I’m stripping away all the sappy feelings for a moment here, I kind of... crave you. Ugh, I don’t know how to say what I mean,” Catra fizzled out at the end, losing her confidence.

It was all so simple in theory. _I want you. I have a carnal desire to make you mine, forever._ The words to make it sound right, however, were not simple at all.

Adora’s eyes, however, had turned dark. “You... want me?”  
  
“Isn’t that obvious?” Catra chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck and avoiding her eyes, feeling like she’d overstepped.

“You want me like...”  
  
Adora pushed her backwards on the bed and Catra’s breath hitched as she leaned forward, their noses brushing, lips milometers from her own. When she spoke, her breath tickled her lips and Catra licked them on reflex, catching the tiniest taste of Adora’s mouth and whimpering.

“Like this?” she whispered, Catra’s admission clearly stoking her confidence.

She kissed Catra deeply, her tongue caressing hers ever so gently, her whole body warm on top of Catra’s as she held herself up by her hands on either side of her head.

“Yes,” Catra hissed, grabbing the back of her head. “Like this.” She kissed her back, rougher than before, gripping her hair as she pushed closer and lost herself in the heat of their bodies.

“I want you too,” Adora murmured, tongue dragging across her earlobe, and _holy shit_ , Catra’s hips bucked for some form of friction.

“Is this what they mean by an adult conversation?” Catra asked, breathless, and Adora giggled by her throat, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the skin there.   
  
Adora adjusted her position slightly, trying to get better leverage, and the leg she placed between Catra’s pushed up against her in just the right way so that Catra hissed and arched her back.

She was throbbing. She felt desperate and wound up and, honestly, a little pathetic. She wanted to mewl for Adora’s attention and beg her to do something, anything, to alleviate the ache she’d been carrying for weeks, months. Years.

At her desperation Adora groaned and pushed her thigh against her deliberately as Catra scrabbled for purchase at her back, gripping her shirt.

“What are we doing?” Catra gasped while she still had the capacity for words; she was seeing stars past Adora’s shoulder, her hips moving of their own accord to seek out that delicious friction.

“I don’t know,” Adora admitted, encouraging Catra’s hips to move, her eyes clenching shut as she settled herself fully on Catra’s thigh and found her own pressure, gently rocking. “But if we don’t see this through I might implode.”  
  
Catra nodded urgently. She twisted and turned, needing something, anything, to distract her from the intense feelings coursing through her body. She wanted to bite or scratch or do _something_ to ground her because this was making her lose her mind. There was so much heat and pressure and it all felt so good. Adora was there, right there, her hair framing her face. She was Catra’s, finally, after so long apart.

Finally she grabbed Adora’s hips and urged her to move faster, more urgently, as the ache inside her deepened. She was seeking something and her body would know when it reached it.

“This feels-”  
  
“I know.”  
  
She gritted her teeth and watched Adora’s face; only she was allowed to see her like this, so beautiful, uncensored, so _hers_. After all this time, expressing themselves in a way that felt so new and yet so natural.

Suddenly that delicious feeling seemed to spike and Catra scrabbled uselessly for any bit of Adora she could reach as she moaned in warning, in anticipation, and Adora’s thigh clenched just right when –

Waves and waves of pleasure swept through her, causing her neck to fall back and Adora’s name to rush out. She might have transcended time and space. There was nothing but bliss. Upon returning she was aware of her body pulsating satisfactory, a certain pleasant lethargy setting in, but more importantly, Adora was falling over the edge into her own oblivion and Catra was rendered speechless watching her, the way her brow furrowed, the way her own name fell from her lips, the best sound she’d ever heard.

Adora couldn’t hold herself up after that, flopping down onto her and panting into her neck.

Now the immediate effect was over, she was aware of how hot and sticky they were, still fully clothed. Catra could have cared less however, drawing Adora close to her chest as though she’d be separated from her forever, their pounding hearts close to one another.

For a while neither spoke, basking in the wonderful afterglow of their unexpected intimacy.

“Wow.”  
  
Adora was always going to be the one to break it. It filled Catra’s heart with joy that she could predict her.

She smiled, giddy. Her tail swished. “Like that?” she teased, referring to their earlier conversation.

Adora laughed breathlessly, wiping hair from her face. “Exactly like that.”  
  
“Can you imagine if we do this without clothes on?” The thought sent another twinge through her.   
  
Adora snuggled into her. “I might not survive.”  
  
Catra breathed in her scent, burying her nose into her neck. “It’s a helluva way to die in my opinion.”  
  
“Better than a Force Commander’s sharp claws.”  
  
“Better than She-Ra’s sword.”  
  
Adora positioned herself to the side, an arm and a leg thrown over her. “We’re okay, aren’t we?” she asked with the tone of someone already knowing the answer.

Catra nodded and said, easily. “We’ve never been better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I could've written thousands more words but it seemed appropriate to stop there. Your thoughts are very much appreciated.


End file.
